“Today is ‘International Cat Day,’ you say? When is it not?” enquires ’Is Lardship.
He’s not kidding, y’know.
International Cat Day
Category: Holidays
Tanks, but no tanks
More than 41.5 million of us will be traveling this weekend, most of us via suburban battlewagon, according to AAA.
What, you thought they were all taking the electric bus? Brother, have I got a bridge for you.
My man Hal Walter beat an estimated 760,000 of his fellow Coloradans to the exodus, motoring north on Thursday to help his mom celebrate her 80th birthday. But he should meet plenty of them on the way back to Weirdcliffe, especially if he’s late getting to Mile High and Bibleburg, the traditional pinch-points along Interstate 25.
“Plain and simple, people just aren’t worried about pump prices,” said AAA Colorado spokesman Skyler McKinley, who predicted “a busy summer travel season.”
Hm. Maybe so. But Herself and I will be staying put, for this weekend, anyway. Traveling on holidays is like pub-crawling on St. Patrick’s Day — strictly for amateurs.
Thus we will be riding our bikey bikes, and pulling some weeds in the back 40, and listening to the little girls next door squeal as they run through the sprinklers surrounding the nice little bit of lawn that their parents just had installed for their summertime enjoyment.
What are all y’all up to?
Sinko de Turko
Come the dawn, after a long night’s duty, Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) likes to refresh himself with a drink from the sink, holiday or no holiday.
And speaking of no holiday, at least one learned sort thinks Cinco de Mayo may be one of them there — created largely to sell beverages, and plenty of them too.
“It’d be like if the Fourth of July were reduced to beer and hot dogs,” said UCLA prof David Hayes-Bautista.
Dude. How long you been on this side of The Wall, ese? I bet you can’t find three gabachos off campus who think the Fourth is about anything else.
Happy New Year
It was a quiet New Year’s Eve around El Rancho Pendejo.
Since I no longer smoke, drink or dance the hoochie-koo, I’m no fun on the big night. And we didn’t have any invites to fancy shindigs at which I might not act the fool. So we spent the day catching up with distant friends and family, cooking a bit of this and that, and going to bed long before the ball dropped in Times Square.
Neighbors with more stamina blew me out of a sound sleep as 2017 sequed into 2018, discharging their muskets, flintlocks and blunderbusses with wild abandon. If there was any body count, it didn’t make the morning paper, no doubt because those misfits were out in the street banging away too.
Having already achieved perfection I have no New Year’s resolutions. I’m taking a 30-day break from Twitter that may become permanent because I think it’s making my head fat and I’d like to be able to squeeze into my old hats again. Plus I think there may be more productive ways to pass the time, like pounding sand down a rathole, pissing into the wind, or baying at the moon like some infernal hound.
And there’s riding the bike, too. In 2017 I managed 2,767.8 miles, more than in 2016 but without a single, solitary tour. Bad Adventure Cyclist! Bad, bad, bad! Go sit in that office chair and think about what you’ve (not) done! And then blog about it.
This unspeakable sloth will persist throughout today. After a light breakfast Herself and I plan a short New Year’s trail run. At some point the black-eyed peas and cornbread will make an appearance, and the burritos smothered in green may get an encore, too. The raspberry cobbler, alas, is a goner.
Meanwhile, happy happy joy joy to thee and thine, and a thousand thank-yous for popping round the old cracker barrel during 2017. Let’s do it some more in 2018.
Feliz Navidad
Merry Christmas from the family.
Extra Credit Music That Doesn’t Suck
• “Christmas in Prison,” John Prine.
• “Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis,” Tom Waits.
• “Christmas in Washington,” Steve Earle.
• “St. Stephen Day Murders,” Elvis Costello and The Chieftains.
• “The Rebel Jesus,” Jackson Browne.
• “Blue Christmas,” Porky Pig.
• “Walkin’ Round in Women’s Underwear,” Bob Rivers.
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